Duality
by Maralae
Summary: Darran Tabris has always believed in kindness and mercy. Cenwen Amell thinks that there is no point in being good or just. When the two of them have to coexist, the prospect of being murdered by the other ends up being more of a threat than the Archdemon.


DAO – Duality: Prologue

"Cenwen!"

She heard somebody calling for her, but her name sounded foreign. She hated it with a dark, burning hatred that made her blood boil - and she hated the voice that said it like a badly pronounced blasphemy, like a word that should never be uttered, for it represents every evil thing in this Maker-forgotten world.

i"Wen, Wen!/i

When had been the last time someone had called her 'Wen'? Many, many years ago, when she lived her life floating in a sweet mist of air and delusion and dreams that had been broken and remade once again and again and again. Or maybe more time, even.

Had she been called 'Wen' once? She doubted it.

She doubted everything. She doubted her own existance and the others's, she doubted her dreams and her lies.

The Fade was the only real thing in her world, a world of lies, as fickle as the magic she carried inside.

Deep, deep inside, where one keeps the fears and sadnesses and disappointments and the secrets not even the Maker knows.

"Cenwen!"

Damn elf with his damn pointy ears and his thrice-damned obsession for asking her what they should do every five minutes... wasn't ihe/i supposed to be the leader?

He had rescued her from the Circle Tower long ago, when she had tried to escape for the hundredth time, taking advantage of the chaos caused by the abominations – and the Templars, taking advantage of that chaos too, decided to execute her once and for all.

She had seen them approaching, their eyes cold, their swords unsheathed, every single one of them pointing at her throat, wanting to cut the weak flesh and the strong person that lived in it, wanting to slay her for daring to disagree... oh, but she would fight back, and she would show them what true power was!

She hadn't had the chance, however, as it was then that the Warden stepped forward and said that he, Darran Tabris, invoked the Right of Conscription on Cenwen Amell. He had saved her life, yes – but... what kind of life was this?

There was one last, almost-silent "Cenwen", and then, silence.

Finally, after several minutes of insisting, she no longer heard the elf's voice and could shelter herself in her mind, her sanctuary, while Darran went to ask for the advice of the other Warden, that enormous idiot, and of the witch, who seemed to be the only sensible person in that crew of madmen and fools and assassins.

She still didn't understand why Darran had spared the Antivan's life, the life of that sleazy fellow with the terribly awful manners and who was an iassassin/i hired to iassassinate/i them. She and the witch had attempted to dissuade Darran from sparing Zevran, but to no avail. The elf was decided to save everyone and their dog and, if possible, add them to his little group of doom.

The little group of doom gathered next to the fire. The Orlesian sang like an epileptic walrus. The idiot Warden laughed like... like an idiot, there wasn't a more appropriate comparison.

"Cenwen?"

And there was the damned elf again, ready to bother her with his damned questions.

"Cenwen, do you think we should...?"

Why didn't he give her the control of the group? Things would be better that way. She'd begin by getting rid of the assassin and then she would ascend the foolish Warden to the noble role of 'meatshield'.

"... Redcliffe?"

She hadn't been paying attention, and she wasn't interested on anything the elf could say. She made a gesture with her head.

"Does that mean yes or no?"

"It means 'why don't you learn to lead iyour/i sodding group?'"

Darran frowned.

"There is no need to insult me. I was just asking, since you always criticize my decisions..."

"Because they lack any logic or common sense. If you were a good leader, you would be able to make smart decisions without having to ask me what to do before you take a step."

"Are you still upset about Zevran? I told you we can trust him..."

"... like you trusted Loghain?"

"Zevran isn't Loghain."

"Did you find that out on your own or did you need help?"

"Maker's breath... remind me why did I recruit you."

Cenwen did not answer. She did not know either, and truth be told, she didn't care.

Darran wanted her to be grateful. She was not. There were worse things than death. Tranquility was one of them, and she was slowly beginning to discover that being part of the pack of mentally disturbed, suicidal people known as 'Grey Wardens' was worse than death as well.

She walked away from the camp without saying a word while the others laughed and ate and talked of silly things.

And then, silence.

The demons in her head began to dance to the rythm of the wind's soft whistles.

She kneeled in the dirt and closed her eyes.

The demons smiled and celebrated to see her arrive covered with her mantle of dreams.

She was finally home.


End file.
